


Ghost Dicks and Motherships

by affiler



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Anxiety, F/F, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Other, Panic Attacks, The Host AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-03-21 10:53:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3689544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/affiler/pseuds/affiler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Which Several Humans Finds Their Bodies Possessed By a Parasitic Alien Species Not Unlike A Fungus, and Attempt To Rid Themselves of It, Only to Find Out That Such a Task Is Much More Difficult Than Originally Perceived.<br/><br/><br/> Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you are an optimist.</p><p>You floated around with the other newborns of your species on your ship until you were implanted in a broken teacup for a couple of years. Despite not having an actual body for the first few years of your life (as many members of your species are wont to do— or, not do), you've managed to find a pretty good one on Earth. Admittedly,  you didn't know a lot about bodies until you had about half an hour to be shot on Earth with a meteorite and forced to choose the host that you'd be stuck with for the rest of your putrid and self-hating life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**=== >Karkat: Be the parasitic alien soul trying his best.**

 

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you are an optimist.

You floated around with the other newborns of your species on your ship until you were implanted in a broken teacup for a couple of years. Despite not having an actual body for the first few years of your life (as many members of your species are wont to do— or, not do), you've managed to find a pretty good one on Earth. Admittedly,  you didn't know a lot about bodies until you had about half an hour to be shot on Earth with a meteorite and forced to choose the host that you'd be stuck with for the rest of your putrid and self-hating life.

You found a host for your friend Gamzee two years after you landed. You'd only known him for a few years before you had to leave, but the two of you shared a whirlwind romance that was so impressionable and blissfully indelible that you now consider him to be your best friend. You have to admit, his host is a bit cooler than yours. You grew to like yours more over the years, even if he's still a huge dork even in his senior year of high school. His name is John Egbert. He is seventeen years old, and the biggest dork in the universe.

You've been trying to keep a low profile while you look for more hosts; admittedly, you don't do much. You definitely have the choice to, but you more or less just hang out in his brain. You go with whatever John decides to do, which is, admittedly, not very much at all.

He goes to school a lot. He hangs out with his friends, who you've also spotted as being fit for hostitude. You are fond of John, because he treats his friends kindly enough, considering he has the emotional capacity of a sentient doormat. Every Friday night he marathons movies, but they're always a hit or a miss. You both anticipate and dread it every time.

During most nights, while John is sleeping, you use his body —well,  _your_  body, really— to text Gamzee and some of your other friends. You technically see them every day, but you don't get a lot of alone time together, if any time at all.

You can't hear any of John's thoughts, and you are honestly more than grateful for it. You can, however, more or less guess what he's going to do. Even though you want to prevent him from doing anything fantastically stupid —everything is eventually going to effect  _your_  quality of life after all— you can't always stop him completely, or else he'd grow suspicious.

Lately, you've been trying to get more of an idea on how to control yourself. You figure that you will not be able pilot this meatsack very well in the future if you don't even have a toddler's grasp of basic human functions. You've attempted things like walking and talking with the body, and you're still getting the hang of it. You usually end up on the ground after a couple of steps, but you figure that you'll get better at it soon.

That is very wishful thinking, and even you can tell.

It's usually the hand stuff that gives you a lot of trouble. You practice in the morning, when John is too tired to take note of anything. Sometimes you make mistakes, and sometimes the mistakes hurt. Every once in a while, you crashland a toothbrush into your eye. Every other day you let John handle that mess, or just skip brushing your teeth altogether. 

Today, the confidence you derive from a successful teeth wash gives you the inspiration to try and control your body for the entire day. You're feeling rather proud of yourself when you finish combing your hair, and even though it takes you a couple of minutes to figure out how to use stairs, you still manage to get yourself to breakfast more or less on-time.

You breathe a sigh of relief when you narrowly avoid John's father on the way out the door. While you know what to do with your body, you don't really know what to _say_ with John's disgusting halitotic mouth. Unfortunately, you'll have to leave the talking to John today. Talking is very hard, but John is by no means the best speaker in the world, or even a very good speaker to begin with, so nobody should think anything of it. 

 

* * *

 

Surprisingly enough, you actually manage to get yourself through the morning in one piece. There was a mishap in Calculus, where you threw a pencil at another classmate, on accident of course, but she's a huge bitch anyway and you couldn't even pretend to be sorry if you were being held at gunpoint and being threatened to be shot unless you expressed sympathy that you were not capable of and did not mean.  

Anyway. 

Dave, or maybe Gamzee, keeps giving you weird looks and frowning at you, so John has —poorly— reasoned that he's feeling off today because a lack of sleep, and has told them as much. To be honest, he's not too far from the truth. You and Gamzee were marathoning  _Say Yes to the Dress_  last night, and there was a lot to talk about. Sometimes a mother _doesn't_ know best, and she just needs to accept that Chloe knows what's she wants for her wedding, and that she deserves nothing less than a blush Reem Acra with a trumpet silhouette and a bateau neckline, because she's worth her salt, dammit. 

You digress.

You decide to give him a break from your piloting attempts, and he takes the opportunity to start doodling in the margins of his notebook, instead of actually doing anything productive.  You try to help him draw a little better, because you're pretty good —more like _very_ good— at drawing yourself, but the two of you end up fighting for control over the pen, and it's not worth it. 

John pauses for a moment, and then gigglesnorts to himself.

 _"omg,"_ he writes on the page. " _stop_ ___it!_ "

 Well, diddle yourself impressed. The crotchblistering idiot figured it out.

 

* * *

 

**=== > Gamzee: Make the best out of your horrible situation.**

 

You were a tubular sock for the first five years of your life, and you do not give a motherfuck.

You dig having a body now, because you didn't got one 'til you was crazy sick of being pilled cotton. You hear all your host's noisy thoughts, and sometimes other people's if they're close enough.  You don't talk to Karkat about this, because he appears to have none abilities of his own and you don't want him to get his hurt on to feel left out.

You don't like your host, because he is liable to fits of nausea and panic attacks, which are _wicked_ nastyhard for the both of you to deal with. Even though you can control Dave at any other time, you cannot control him while he is having a fit. Dave is not interesting. LIFE WOULD BE EASIER WITHOUT DAVE.

The easiest time to explore —and the funnest time— is during nighttime, when Dave is asleep, and not getting to be interfering.

You like texting your lover and having late-night jimjam chats with Dave's motherfucking kinship. You like Dave's family more than Dave, because his father taught you how to rap, and his brother hosts a goddamn good friend of yours. You have a bit of potty mouth from Dave watching too many action movies with John when y'all was kids. Dave's kinship didn't find it fit when you got to cussing, although they don't mind a bit of swearing every now and then. Still, you don't want to make them upset, so you talk real polite and you ain't say anything that gets Dave in trouble.

They'll also be  _your_ family, instead of Dave's, in not too motherfucking long. That's a pretty sweet deal, if you do say so yourself. So you behave.

You know bumfuck tits about Dave, for all that you're hanging around the inside of his skull. You are in no means being to give a care about Dave, so you zone out a lot of the day. You're all taking naps —or, the closest thing that you can get to a nap— without Dave noticing. You keep out of Dave's life, even though sometimes it's hard not to eavesdrop.

You can't not admit that you're hella more familiar with Dave's friends than his crushes. They up and leave and be gone before you even know they are... yeah.  You don't really know. You like Karkat's host because he lets you and Karkat do whatever you guys want; you think that the other girls are funny and you don't mind them at all. You wish Dave could be more like his friends.

Even though Dave sucks and is all about that being awful, lately you've been dancing your loafers off, you're so excited. In two months, 50 more of your space buddies will be heading down to up get their grab on with some hosts. And the day after that, 50 more. Eventually there will be thousands of them, and you guys can start living here like normal. A planet is tons more fun to live on than a ship.

Luckily, you've convinced those motherfuckers to put their wait on until _after_ prom. You can't wait to get jiggy with your karbro.

 

* * *

 

Dave puts up a fight when you try to leave the house without doing his hair, with a lot of " _what the hell"'_ s, and " _ugh i don't have time for this"'_ s.

His hair would look nice with some texture in it, and if he doesn't have enough time to do his hair, it makes more sense he shouldn't. When you try to get him putting the hairbrush the motherfuck down, a spike of worry shoots down his spine, and he jerks his arm back up. The hairbrush crashes through the crapton of miscellaneous junk Dave keeps on his sink, and hits the wall, leaving a little dent on there. Shit.

Dave's old man cracks his door open.  _I could've sworn I locked that,_  Dave thinks.Oh well, fucker. He's here now. 

He looks at you, but only makes eye contact through the mirror. It's kinda funny, having a conversation without looking at a person. 

"You okay?"

Well ain't that just the bitch's tits. He's sweet.

Dave nods to the mirror, and Bro takes a moment to look at his hair. He doesn't say nothing, though, just nods back and closes the door again. Dave looks at his reflection in the mirror again, because he is a  _vain_ motherfucker. 

_I look ridiculous. It's impossible not to notice. Everyone's going to look at me I'm going to look ridiculous._

_NO ONE GIVES A MOTHERFUCK,_ you shout into his head, because he's always seemed to imagine you as some kind of imaginary friend or conscience or something. No matter how you spin it, that shit's sad. Kid ain't got a conscience. Either way, you figure he might as well to be taking your advice, if he's assuming you're so goddamn morally authoritative _._

He ain't all up and be listening, though.  _Just to be safe,_ he says, and he starts brushing his hair all meticulous. 

It takes another ten minutes  for Dave to settle his hair the shit down. 

 

* * *

 

School goes all right. You take a nap until you know that it's Karkat Time, and then you steer Dave over to John's locker. As you sidle up the corridor, you see the host putting his stuff away. Before you can get to him, he up and slips and falls flat on his face.

Awww, that probably means Karkat's fixin' to walk again. That's cute.

You figure Dave will get the tiny hint to help John —and Karkat, more importantly— back up, but instead he starts to give John a real harsh nudge in the side with his foot. You stop that shit before it can happen, and you shove that harsh foot right back on the ground, where it belongs if it's gonna be mean. What the fuck, man. You don't kick a brother while he's down. 

You and Karkat walk to lunch together. It's kind of romantic and all, what it being the first time you two are piloting at the same time. Karkat trips almost the whole way there, and keeps mackin' on the floor tiles every couple of seconds. Walking's a good look on him; whatever it takes to get him there is good by you. 

John's friends are kinda miffed that you didn't make it to lunch on time. Without going into detail, because in hindsight you don't want to admit you up and misconstrued the situation entirely, you pull a wicked trick with some Capri Sun to try and cheer 'em up. Rose and Jade get mad at you and covered in juice, and Dave's embarrassed. You don't let him say nothin' that will make the situation worse; in other words, you don't let Dave talk the whole lunch.

 

* * *

 

You decide to take over for the rest of the day, because you're already situated and comfortable from lunch hour. 

Sometimes you pass by Karkat in the hallways, and you see him making a ruckus with those two left feet of his; it doesn't take long before he has you worried, because you only ever see him hurting himself by walking into sharp stuff, like corners, or a well-fitting blazer on another student's bod.

Consider Karkat noted in the ol' think bank. 

 

* * *

 

When John comes over to Dave's house on the weekend, like they're always doing, you guys cuddle up on Dave's bed. It's not really cuddling, because neither of you are touching each other and Karkat's at least three feet away from you, but it's goddamn close enough and you'll take it. 

You find yourself worrying over the state of your best friend's adorable gams. They're covered in bandages applied so poorly that they might be a John-Karkat conglomerate effort, which is just about the most motherfucking awful thing you've thought about all week. 

You find yourself fussy over Karkat's state of health, even if he's ignorant about it.

You try to get cozy with Karkat, but Dave and John ain't the best of friends, apparently, because they just don't want to get cuddling. Dave starts getting himself wicked worked up, and then both John _and_ Karkat are fit to be tied and ain't want hug you none. _Now_ you're in a really pissy mood. This slumber party just got lame.

Luckily, Bro stomps on in and makes everybody get some motherfucking pizza rolls.  He's the kind of brother you gotta be thankful for; this room was getting stuffy with awkward.

 

* * *

 

 After you guys get some good quality pizza rolls and questionable quality cable programming in you, you head back on into Dave's room. Dave has gotten himself up in a tizzy, so you can't do nothing with him anymore. You doze off for a few minutes.

When you wake up, Dave's chilled out a bit, but you don't know what the sam huggin' hill he and John are gabbing about. You have a feeling you don't like it.

John's making horrible croaking noises that you've grown to recognize as the sound of John's horrible laughter.

"Okay, so I  _might_ have a parasitic alien living in my brain! I didn't even ever think that could be a  _real_ sentence coming out of my _literal_ mouth— is this seriously possible? I'm  _dying_!" Okay, Karkat. You gotta give a girl a motherfucking warning when shit like this is going down. 

DAVE'S JUST UP AND MOTHERFUCKIN' LOST HIS MOTHERFUCKIN' TALKING PRIVILEGES FOR THE NIGHT.


	2. You need some help.

**=== >John: Try to make it through the day without killing yourself.**

 

You wake up in the morning feeling more tired than you have in a long, _long_ time.

Your homework stuffs has moved off of the bed and onto the floor during the night, so you were probably just sleepwalking again. Your behavior has been kind of unpredictable lately, and due to a serious lack of sleep, you can't remember close to anything some days.

 

* * *

 

You end up falling asleep on your desk during Calculus. Jade tries to wake you up by stabbing you repeatedly in the side with a pencil. You manage to wrangle it out of her hands, though not without a lot of effort. 

And then, by way of some seriously delayed reflex, your hand flies up in the air, and the pencil you were holding launches into the back of the head of the girl sitting a couple of rows in front of you. She turns around to glare at you disapprovingly. You try to smile apologetically, but even you know that even at age 17, your best smile looks like a gross baby's. You mouth the words, "I'm sorry," but she just glares harder, because she is apparently heaving none of that "smiling" or "being polite" nonsense today.

You can hear Jade giggling from behind you. You turn around to stick your tongue out at her, because fuck Jane. You're mostly just glad that the old man substituting today is about two minutes away from turning into a pile of dust, and hasn't even turned around from the board.

 

* * *

 

As you fuss around in your locker before lunch, you feel a lot more drowsy than usual. With a laugh —albeit, a wary one— you say, "Feet don't fail me now!" and then laugh at your own joke, because it's been about seventy years since that movie came out, and you still find it funny . You also have a bad sense of humor, which helps immensely.

Your feet fail you and you faceplant in the middle of the hallway in about two seconds.

Not too long after, someone kicks you not too gently in your side. As you get up and brush yourself off, you realize that you recognize the beat up white converse causing you pain (and also trying to stick a dirt-covered toe cap in your ear).

"Ew! _Gross_ , Dave!"

You start to pick up your crap, and stuff it into your backpack. Dave makes a move like he's going to help you out, but then just drops his arms to his sides and watches you get your shit together. He starts clenching and unclenching his fists like he's going through the motions anyway, and then he tries to look like less of a tool by crossing his arms over his chest. It's awkward, it doesn't work, and he still looks like a major tool. You resist the urge to roll your eyes; you sometimes wish he'd drop the coolkid act.

When you finally make it to lunch about fifteen minutes later, with a lot of stumbling on your part and a lot of awkward standing on Dave's, you finally sit at your lunch table with Rose and Jade. Rose gives you a leveled, disapproving look. She technically has no authority over you, but you still manage to feel kind of ashamed.

"Lunch is almost over." She accuses. "Were you guys making out behind the bleachers or something?"

"I wish," Dave snorts. He makes a vague gesture at you. "The little man was learning how to walk." _Jerk_.

Jade furrows her brows. "And that means what, exactly?"

"I was being clumsier than usual today." You don't really like admitting this.

Luckily, karma is on your side today, because Dave doesn't even get to start a new sentence before he grabs a pouch of Capri Sun so hard that its contents shoot out of the top and explode all over the four of you. Rose and Jade have juice on them and almost hate Dave. You have a little bit on your glasses and your shirt, but you're laughing, at least. 

Dave blushes really hard, but he doesn't say anything. He got the worst of the juicesplosion, so his bangs are sticking to his forehead. Regardless, he's the most stoic you've ever seen him. You imagine that Bro would be proud, but you mostly just want to get rid of all this juice.

You take off your glasses to wipe them off.

"What the hell, Dave?"

Jade laughs. "Like _you_ have any room to talk!" She turns to Rose. "He started throwing pencils at some rando today in Pre-Calc."

Dave gives you a dry look. "What the hell, John."

You slam you hands on the table in protest, and end up breaking both the lenses and the frames of your glasses. Wow. Then, adding insult to injury, your hand slaps yourself across your derp face without your doing.

Your hands got cut on the edges of your broken glasses, and are bleeding a little bit. Your hands and face are covered in broken plastic, blood, and apple juice. Rose and Jade look on in horror. Your life sucks.

You end up leaving before the bell rings so that you can get yourself cleaned up.

  

* * *

 

In your next class, your brain apparently decides that it's had enough excitement for the day. You're supposed to be taking notes, but you don't even remember what class you're in, and you can't even see the board. It's a little pathetic.

You try start an outline, but end up doodling haphazardly in your notebook anyways; your drawings get exponentially worse as you go on, and you eventually just give up completely. You try to employ a little self-motivation.  As a little aside to yourself, you scribble an _"omg, stop it!"_ in the margins. Sometimes, a little tough love is all you need.

Then slowly, without your doing, your hand writes, _"WHAT"_ in the worst handwriting you've ever seen in your entire life.

You stare at the paper.

Literally, what the fuck. You've been tired before, yeah, but you've never been so tired that you start talking to yourself.

Well, maybe talking to yourself, but never writing to yourself. That's just lame.

Maybe it's ghosts? The last time you used a Ouija board was, like, a week ago. Do ghosts always run this late?

You have been waiting on this for a while, though. You think about the advice you've read online about communicating with spirits. You decide to take the polite route so as to not make the ghost angry, and write, _"Thank you for communicating with me, Mr./Mrs.? Spirit."_ Yeah, that's good.

No answer. You write carefully, " _What's your name, spirit?_ " Maybe it prefers colloquality.

Your hand starts moving again. " _YOU DON'T NEED TO KNOW THAT._ "

A part of you wishes that the ghost would write in lowercase letters, too, but all things considered, it probably had other things to worry about. Like purgatory, or haunting civilians, or crap like that.

" _Um, yes I do!_ " You reason. _"This is_ my _body yunno!!!_ " Wow, ghosts are new levels of stupid. They can't reason for shit.

_"NO, IT'S MY BODY. I CLAIMED IT AND IT'S * MINE*" _

You cannot help the quiet, " _What?_ " that comes out of your mouth, but the ghost makes you other hand cover your mouth to cover the noise at around the same time, so you just sort of end up slobbering all over your own hand. It tastes like processed juice and soap.

You scribble, frantically, _"Claimed?! I'm_ possessed _?"_

You wanted a fun conversation with a dead person, not a full body possession. Ouija boards blow.

_"YOU'RE NOT POSSESSED. YOU'RE JUST TAKING UP SPACE THAT ISN'T YOURS TO DIVVY UP IN THE FIRST GODDAMN PLACE."_

Your hand stills, and then writes so quickly that your hand can hardly keep up; it results in a messy scrawl at the bottom of the page that reads, _"LOOK. I DON'T HAVE TO EXPLAIN MYSELF TO YOU. THIS I MY BODY AND I WANT IT BACK NOW, THANKS."_ You snap the pen in half in between your fingers. The ink stains don't come out of your hands for the rest of the week.

 

* * *

 

**=== > Dave: Get your feel on.**

 

You and John hang out at your house over the weekend. You usually go to your house, even though John's is bigger and his dad is almost never home. Bro and Dirk are usually around somewhere, but they're pretty quiet. They're fond of John, even though he's the biggest derp to ever grace the planet. You like John too, though, even if he's horribly immature and has bad taste in just about everything.

The two of you are currently sitting on your bed- you're backed up against the headboard, and John's curled up with his back against the wall. He's playing with the hem of his pants, and you can't help but notice the mess of bandages covering his knees. You know he's clumsy, sure, but you didn't ever know it got this bad.

You feel a kind of uneasiness settle in your stomach, although you can't quiet place the name for it. You feel like crawling out of your own skin all of a sudden, and you swear on your biological mother's nonexistence that you can't imagine why the everloving fuck you're getting your panties in a twist over some motherfucking bandages on John's clumsy goddamned gams.

You don't care that much, and would honestly prefer to leave the matter alone, but your conscience tells you that you're obligated to ask. You're not the kind of guy who ignores his moral compass every time he's not feeling up to doing shit.

"What happened to your legs, bro?" 

John blinks at you stupidly for a moment, and then follows your eyes to his scraped to his scraped up knees.

"Oh! I fell a lot today. Dunno why. I think my laces were too tight or something."

You're sure that that is almost definitely _not_ the issue, but you don't really want to push it. "You sure about that?"

You move even closer to him to examine his kneecaps. And what the hell are you even saying, you're not trying to say anything anymore, but your mouth is moving on its own before you can process the words coming out of it. "You're just about my best friend in the whole motherfucking universe, and I can't be standing to see you all scratched up and covered in weird fabric bullshit."

Okay, that's a crapton of lies all swaddled up together like a newborn babe, followed by a reeking lie placenta that the nurse ignores professionally while the father is secretly terrified, even though he puts on a brave face and just focuses on being supportive, because honey, you can make it through this. Look at what we made together. I'm so proud.

Both you and John share a confused look, before John's expression goes all annoyed and he says, "It's not that big of a deal, shitsmear!" and starts shoving his hands in your face to push you away.

Your body moves on its own, and gets itself all kinds of motherfucking situated somewhere between his gross, knobby, adorable (what _even_ ) knees.

You work on trying to persuade him to show you his gross legs, for whatever reason, and when that doesn't work you start trying to find them on your own. You end up pinning his feet down to get him to hold still. John alternates between giggling (he would be ticklish, the dweeb), swearing like a goddamn sailor, and looking extremely confused. Together, the two of you get your motherfucking ruckus on in this popsicle stand.

"Shoosh- I've got this. Prepare to get your motherfuckin' chill on, broth—"

Bro opens the door to your room.

There is a silence. Eventually, the urge you had to kiss all of John's goddamned booboos better fades away, and John looks less angry, and more like a kicked puppy. Your shades fell off sometime in the shuffle, and your face is completely bare as all of the blood in your body rushes to your cheeks and the tips of your ears. John's probably red as a tomato down to his fucking toes, but he doesn't say anything stupid, thank god.

He tries to dispel the awkwardness of the situation by coughing, but ends up choking on his own spit instead, which somehow makes it even worse.

Over the sound of John's wheezing, Bro says, "Pizza rolls are downstairs." He blinks. You blink back.

"Um, okay." It comes out pretty chokes up (although not as choked up as John, who is slowly being killed by his own saliva). You try again. "Okay. We'll get some later."

"No, you'll get some now."

John's choking eventually stops.

Bro looks a variety pack of contemplative and concerned.

"You door has a lock on it."

"Yeah, I know."

"Use it more often."

You give a lame nod, and Bro nods his paternal acquiescence and finally shuts the stupid door with the lock on it that you are apparently supposed to use more often.

You can't stop your mouth from moving on its own again. "You feelin' better, brother?"

"Shut up."

 

* * *

 

**=== > John: Practice your future job as a research investigator.**

 

Before you even try to go to the kitchen, you have to go to the bathroom. You're about to decide against it, what with the mysterious spirit controlling your brain and all; you don't want to give a free show to some stranger. On the other hand, you figure that it's probably already seen your dick in various forms, depending on how long it's been around. You decide that it doesn't really matter, and you go to the bathroom anyways.

When you leave, Dave is nowhere to be found. From the racket coming from  the basement, you go out on a limb and assume that Dirk is fucking around with his robots somewhere downstairs.

You're alone in the kitchen with Bro, and two cookie sheets full of pizza rolls.

The room is silent, except for the sound of a Squiddles episode playing music from the living room. Because Bro's the only person who has been in this room for the past hour or so, you assume that he was the one to turn it on. You try to make some polite conversation.

"So!" You start, a little too loudly. You wince. "Squiddles are cool."

He stares you.

"I really like this show," you lie.

"Same." He gives you a little smile and somewhere in the world, a baby laughs and a fairy is born.

You hear a toilet flush, and Dave walks into the room. You're glad he's back, but you're slightly worried for him. What if the ghost possessed _him,_ and saw _his_ dick?

Then you realize that you're thinking about Dave's penis. You don't want to think about Dave's penis being seen by a ghost, either.

"Then d- _don't_ ," Dave stammers.

You are pulled rather abruptly from your thoughts. Bro is staring at you with his mouth half-open, and Dirk has arisen from the depths of the basement and is studiously ignoring you in favor of getting some pizza rolls. You realize you've been talking out loud.

"Sounds like a plan," you offer lamely, and then you turn your back to Dave in favor of imitating Dirk.

 

* * *

 

The four of you gather in front of the TV with pizza rolls. Dirk is sprawled out on the floor, and Bro's in the EZ chair. You and Dave try to maintain a casual distance between each other on the couch.

Dirk has taken over control of the TV, and has it hooked up to his laptop. He's been marathoning 80's music videos for about an hour, and nothing's gonna stop him now; you have a feeling that this is going to happen all night long, and Bro and Dave are making no moves to prevent it from happening. 

Somewhere in the middle of "It's Raining Men," you take out your phone and start looking at ghost anecdotes. None of the ghosts on the Internet sound anything like yours. They seem a lot less dumb, for one thing, and are actually useful for doing cool stuff. Like finding dead bodies in your walls, and breaking apart your estranged marriage. 

Actually, some further symptoms searching leads to a gnarly National Geographic video called "Parasitic Mind Control." And although you've always thought of yourself as a fairly handsome human boy, you find yourself relating rather well to videos of ants slowly having their lives ruined by douchebag parasitic fungi. 

Alriiiiight. So: parasites. Gross, but you've had worse things in your body than fungus. Well, probably. You don't really want to think about it, so you don't.

You consider telling Dave; after all, he has a right to know. He's been acting all weird lately, too; maybe he's got sentient parasites to blame. You decide it would be best to talk to Dave before you head home, and you figure now would be the best time.

_"Hey,"_ you whisper without taking your eyes off the screen. Operation Casual is a go. _"Dave."_

He shoots you a tremendously annoyed look out of the corner of his eye, but you continue trying.

_"How have you been lately?"_ Good job, John; try to ease him into the conversation. Now for the hook. _"Have you noticed anything weird with your body lately?"_

Dave finally looks at you, but his expression very quickly changes into one of simultaneous disgust and confusion.

You and Dave have never been more out of sync in your entire life.

_"Like, with your_ brain _,"_ you explain patiently, still whispering. _"Have you noticed anything weird with your brain."_

Dirk mutters an "Oh my god, shut _up_ ," from the floor, and Dave screams a little, but his mouth is closed and he doesn't scream for very long, so it's all right. You figure it's a better response than nothing.

Bro suggests, very kindly, "Maybe you can hang out in Dave's room. You could get a little more privacy there," and looks weary for a moment. Yikes.

You guys get up, and while you're trying to avoid stepping on Dirk's gangly body on the floor, Bro adds, "Leaves the door open," and as an afterthought, "That isn't an invitation to exhibitionism, Dave."

You follow Dave to his room while he starts screaming again.

 

* * *

 

**=== > Dave: Freak the fuck out.**

 

You sit in silence. It is not companionable by any memes.

You leave the door open.

You curl yourself up into a cool little ball on the bed, as John sits in your desk. Without looking at you, John says very earnestly, "So. Have you noticed the invasive parasite living in your brain."

What the fuck, John.

"No man," you reply, and you can feel your head get dizzy. You're too tired for this. "I haven't noticed." You purse your lips.

What the _fuck_ , John.

"Why do you think there's an invasive parasite living in my brain."

John's face lights up, that weird fucker, and he starts shoving crap around in his jacket pocket to look for something. You try to breathe through your nose and chill the fuck out.

John shoves a piece of notebook paper into your gross clammy hands. You consider it.

Okay, so apparently John has some kind of personality issue he needs to sort out, and he has attributed it to the parasitic being living in his brain.

Okay.

"Did you write this yourself?"

_"Yes!"_ He laughs all fucking jittery, and it does nothing to help your nerves. "Well, I mean kind of. I didn't really have a _choice,_ really, my hand was moving all on it's own!"

That's the freakiest thing you've heard in a while.

You say as much, but John assures you, "It's not that bad! I mean, _think_ about it! You've done a lot of weird things lately, you've noticed!"

"Everybody has their off days, John, it doesn't mean there's a fucking parasite—"

"—C'mon, Dave. You haven't been yourself lately." He scoffs. " _Tonight!_ You were all worried about my scratches or whatever. Like you've ever cared about a single one of my problems—" He cuts himself off as you wince.

Ouch, fuck.

"Anyways," he coughs into the back of his hand. "I haven't really been acting like myself, either. And it's not really _me_ acting weird, you know? I feel like I'm possessed or something. I don't have control over myself."

You try to consider what John's saying, even though your throat's tight and you'd honestly rather just go to bed right now.

Yeah, you haven't really been able to remember half of what you've been up to lately. And you've been clumsy as fuck and aggressively out-of-control of your own behavior, and yeah, Dirk and Bro have recalling a lot of conversations that have never happened, to your admittedly limited knowledge, and fuck, shit, what the fuck John, _shit_.

"It sounds a lot more like aliens, honestly. If it's even anything at all." Although John has been alternating between ghosts and parasites as an explanation, aliens were the first thing that came to your mind. 

"Oooh, _aliens!_ " John sounds more excited than scared. "I have a parasitic alien living in my brain!"

"You don't know that for sure, John—"

"Okay, so I _might_ have a parasitic alien living in my brain!" He guffaws. "I didn't even ever think that could be a _real_ sentence coming out of my _literal_ mouth— is this seriously possible? I'm _dying!_ "

Suddenly, you stiffen. The words come out of your mouth before you can stop them.

You speak very quietly, almost a murmur. "I'm done talking about this, _John_." His name comes out like a motherfucking hiss, and it feels unfamiliar on your tongue.

John protests immediately. "Okay, um,  _no?_ I'm not done talking about thi—"

"I'm done with you, John," You hiss, insistent, until you start shouting. "I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT THIS ANYMORE! "

John looks confused and furrows his brows. "Um, is that actually you talking, Dave? Or is it, you know, the... the thing?"

You try to open your mouth, but it won't open and you can't speak.

Shit shit shit _shit_ , fuck...

You can feel yourself choking up, and start to panic. Your brain's all fuzzy and you can't really think about this mess anymore, which is kind of a relief. John's been around you long enough to know how to handle you, you realize, and you're kind of embarrassed when he starts moving you to the floor so that you don't hurt too bad if you end up knocking yourself out.

Luckily, you've somewhat regained the ability to open your mouth again, even though you can hardly use it because you can't even breathe right now, and—

"Hey."

John's surprisingly gentle when he's not being a derp.

"You want me to get Bro?"

You nod. John looks at you for a moment, and then and gets up. You can very faintly hear him talking in the living room, and it isn't very long before Bro's setting a water bottle on the floor next to you and rubbing circles on your back. You can hear John and Dirk talking by the front door, and not too long after, you hear it shut behind John.

_Fuck._

 

* * *

 

**=== > Karkat: Chastise your dumb best friend.**

 

WHAT THE FUCK, GAMZEE.   
WHAT YOU DID TODAY WAS EVERY SINGLE KIND OF *NOT* *OKAY*  
I CAN'T EVEN BELIEVE YOU, YOU'RE SO FUCKING STUPID I CAN'T EVEN BELIEVE  
I CAN'T EVEN BELIEVE YOU. I CAN'T EVEN UNDERSTAND YOU. YOU'RE SO FUCKING STUPID I CAN'T EVEN UNDERESTAND YOU. I DON'T EVEN WANT TO TALK TO YOU.  
I WaSn't tRyInG To mAkE HiM HaVe a mOtHeRfUcKiNg pAnIc aTtAcK :o(  
I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU WERE TRYING TO DO, GAMZEE.  
I Do tHiNgS AlL ThE TiMe aNd hE NeVeR nOtIcEs  
It's aLrIgHt  
WHAT.   
WHAT DO YOU MEAN?  
NoBoDy eVeR NoTiCeS NoThInG ArOuNd hErE So iT's aLl gOoD In tHe hOoD  
:o)  
...   
YOU REALLY NEED TO BE CAREFUL.  
MORE CAREFUL.  
FUCK.  
YOU'RE GIVING ME A FUCKING ANEURYSM AND I'M SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD.   
YoU NeEd tO Do sOmE BiTs ChIlLiNg dOwN, tHeN, mY FrIeNd  
I KNOW, I KNOW. 

You wanna change the subject now.

HEY. DID YOU SEE ME WALKING TODAY?  
MoThErFuCkIn' YeS I DiD, bRoThEr. YoU WeRe dOiNg a pReTtY FiNe aSs jOb!  
YEAH, I KNOW. I KEEP TRIPPING, THOUGH. WALKING'S HARDER THAN IT LOOKS.  
ThAt's aLrIgHt yOu'rE TrYiNg yOuR BeSt  
YoU'Ll gEt tHe hAnG Of iT. iT'S EvErY KiNd oF EaSy tHeRe cAn mOtHeRfUcKiNg bE aNd eVeN tHeN tHeRe's sO MuCh mOrE YoU cAn dO, yOu kNoW?  
I DON'T EVEN WANT TO KNOW.  
BESIDES, THAT'S A LOT EASIER FOR YOU TO SAY. YOU'VE BEEN WALKING FOR A REALLY LONG TIME NOW.  
YOU KNOW, YOU'D TYPE A LOT FASTER IF YOU JUST TYPED. INSTEAD OF ALL OF THAT LOWERCASE BULLSHIT. IT'S TAKING YOU TEN MINUTES TO TYPE, LIKE, THREE WORDS.  
I LeArNeD HoW To tYpE LiKe tHiS In kEyBoArDiNg cLaSs  
It's tHe tYpInG StAnDaRd  
YoU'Re aCtUaLlY ThE OnE TyPiNg wRoNg  
I DON'T BELIEVE YOU EVEN A LITTLE BIT.

* * *

**=== > John: Wake up. **

You wake up in the middle of the night, and you're already sitting up.

Your phone is in your hands and turned on. Your fingers are already flying pretty goddamned quickly over the keys, considering you aren't putting in any effort at all.

Now you're wide awake. But you're still human. You sneeze, and even though you're alone, you still feel obligated to sneeze into your elbow. There is something to be said about propriety, after all.

SHIT.  
WhAt's sHiT, bRoThEr?  
I THINK HE'S AWAKE.  
? dAvE'S BeDdY-ByE RiGhT NoW, i pRoMiSe.  
NOT DAVE, NUMBNUTS. JOHN.  
WeLl sHiT, bRoThEr.  
YoU BeSt gEt dElEtInG, tHeN  
YEAH. OKAY. I'LL TALK TO YOU LATER.  
GOODNIGHT.  
LOVE YOU.  
SoUnDs lIkE A PlAn.  
LoL- lOvE YoU LoTs.  
:o)

Before you can even start to trying to reply, your fingers are moving again.

Deleting thread... 

Your eyes skim over what looks to be at least a hundred or so messages.

Conversation deleted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit 6/40/2015: why yes, i did fuck up a part of this chapter and nobody commented on it, but it's fixed, so smooth on me.
> 
> edit 7/9/2015: i even fucked up the date wow ^


	3. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter mentions irregular eating patterns, and some throwing up stuff. no details on any of it, though. 
> 
> anyways, short chapter(s)

**=== > Terezi: Have a good time.**

You were originally a stiletto— the knife, not the shoe. As of right now, you've been engaged in a barely civil and otherwise chaotic and virtually fruitless union with your girl, Jade Harley. Gamzee was the one who sorted out your move, so you definitely had your fair share of anxiety before coming down to Earth. You were worried that his shit taste would give you a really bad host— that it would be either slightly defective (like Dave) or entirely useless (like Karkat's), but you've struck a pretty great deal, and you've got nothing in particular to complain about.

She's not the kind of girl to keep you bored. Just the opposite, really. Her family travels a lot, and she's never stayed in one town for very long. In fact, you're pretty sure that this is the longest she's lived anywhere, and it's only been about three years. It's not very long by any means, but it's a third of the lifetime you've spent with your host, so it feels pretty goddamn long. Plus, she's pretty good at getting your spirits up, even when you're not feeling it too hard. Sometimes you can even let her take over for a while. It's kind of a dangerous thing to do, but if you're going to be on auto-pilot anyway, it really doesn't make a difference.

You've had a pretty easy time in your body— that is to say, it's hard to tell where Jade's thoughts end, and yours begin. You feel something that goes a little further than fondness because of it. You know that you own this body more than anyone, but sometimes you really do feel like you're sharing it.

That being said, you know for a fact that Jade has never noticed you, and could probably give less of a fuck as to how you feel about her, so you're gonna move right onto over a different topic now.

Actually, no, you wanna talk about that. Dave's been freaking out over Gamzee for about a week straight, you're pretty sure that Kanaya is somehow managing to court her host from within her own body, and even _John_ has talked to Karkat at some point, so you're a mix of annoyed and confused in regards to Jade's reaction to you. The lack thereof, really.

So you can't really bring yourself to get angry when Dave bring you to Jade's attentions. In all fairness, Gamzee is just about the worst person in the entire world to have to  _talk_ to, much less have live inside of your actual body, so he was probably going to tell somebody at  _some_ point. Be it a therapist or fucking Jade Harley. 

 

* * *

 

Jade walks over to John's house at 8 in the morning. He's been sick all week, but his father could only take so many days off work to stay home and take care of him, so now he's sick and lonely. 

The door's locked, but Jade's reaching for the spare key under the welcome rug before you can think anything of it. Jade's much more patient in dealing with John's miraculous levels of bullshit than you are, so you're planning on zoning out for a couple of hours while she's playing nurse. It's not like you've got anywhere to go. 

Shortly after you walk up the stairs, you see John hunched over the toilet in the bathroom.

"You don't look so hot!" Jade kneels next to him and starts rubbing his back. "Are you sick?"

He tries to respond, but interrupts himself with a heave.

"Do you want something to drink?"

"That would be—" He gags. "—Great."

"Cool. Are you alright with me leaving for a sec?"

He gives you a shaky thumbs up, and Jade takes her cue to leave.

She gets some ginger ale from his fridge, and brings up a couple of glasses for you three to share. You chill out on the floor, because John almost falls over when he tries to stand up. You really hope that Karkat isn't trying to walk again, because that sure as hell will not help the situation at hand. 

"Sometimes when Bec throws up I give him pets."

John heaves.

"Do you want pets?"

Karkat gives you a look of contempt that looks hellaciously wild on John's idiot face. He shoves his head back in the toilet bowl not two seconds later.

Jade hands him a glass of soda, so that John can get the bad taste out of his mouth. You take the liberty of handing him a drinking glass full of mouthwash, too. He reaches blindly for it and ends up drinking the entire thing, to your delight, because John Egbert is an easily played fool. Jade can hardly apologize coherently, because you're laughing pretty goddamn hard. The joy is short lived, because he throws it up again not one second later.

It does get unbearably boring after a while, and finally you can will Jade away to go hang out somewhere else.

Unfortunately, she is pretty hard to get a hold of (by which you mean you sometimes struggle to make her do what you want, and now is definitely one of those times), so the farthest she'll let you walk is across the hall and into his room. You goof off on Jade's phone, and then John's phone, and invite better company over.

 

* * *

 

**=== > Kanaya: Feel flattered. Also extremely guilty, but nonetheless, flattered.**

 

You think rather highly of yourself, considering you were a stiletto for the first 9 years of your life. The shoe, not the knife. That being said, you've been trying extremely hard to suppress some of your more self-serving urges for the sake of your lovely host, Rose Lalonde.

You originally had no intentions of letting her stick around— you do, after all, have a right to your own body, and diplomatically speaking, she does not. But the two of you shared many hobbies together, and sometimes she made commentary to herself that was either spectacularly clever, or just kind of funny in a Rose way, and you kept her around because she entertained you and you wanted to see what she would do next. And then, you slipped up majorly and ended up talking to Rose on your tenth birthday.

Considering her age, she took the news pretty well. Extremely well, even. And to your further surprise and delight, she seems rather content with having you around.

You know she likes having you around, at least, because when her friends start chatting her up about you, she's more than willing to play obtuse until they stop talking to her about it. And you find all of this rather lovely, because while you've found yourself quite naturally enamored with Rose over the years, it's nice to have her do something completely in your defense. That being said, it's best to avoid thinking about the inevitable, considering that Rose is quick to catch on to your line of thinking. The two of you have made something of a (slightly dangerous) game out of finishing each other's sentences while she's talking. It keeps you occupied. Although you're perfectly content with just watching her, for now. 

Although, you do run into problems from time to time. Neither of you are able to keep food down right now. And you're getting viciously hungry, which is almost hilariously distressing to experience when you know that anything you could possibly eat is going to make you throw up. You both manage.

There are a couple of things that you can't tell her about. She doesn't know how many more of your kind are going to be coming, or when. She doesn't know that you have a lot more control of her body than she does. You haven't exactly told her everything about you, or your intentions, but she is aware of Karkat, and Gamzee, and even took notice of Terezi on her own accord. You can't regret your decisions regarding Rose; it's far too late now, and it's simply something that you do not think about anymore.

When Rose is asleep, you think about the possible ways you can kill her once she's not allowed to stay with you any longer.

 


	4. You need some new friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhh i just realized that 90% of this chapter is people throwin up, and i don't go into detail about that stuff anywhere in this but i'm letting know  
> also suicide mention at the very last sentence, and it's not vital to the plot because you've already heard about it from kanaya
> 
> so anyways

**=== > Jade: Chill with your buds.**

 

It's a Saturday morning, and you've got nothing to do, so you've decided to hang out in John's house.

By """""hanging out""""" you mean taking care of John's sorry ass while he pukes about every ten seconds. You want to help him out more, but he's thrown up every drink you've tried to put in his mouth (along with some mouthwash that he mistook for a beverage, and swallowed), and his hair isn't really long enough to hold back as he pukes. You settle on rubbing his back and occasionally offering him pets, which he declines. You chill on his bed and listen to the sound of him puking. You also choose to dick around on his phone a while, until he gets a message.

hey

hey

hey

hey

john

hey john

are you still puking?

is it a lot of puke

why are you always puking

is it the asshole

you know the one

what???? :\\\\\

not the one on your ass the one in your head

this is jade! but you're right, he's STILL puking

oh

whos the asshole?

haha nobody

dont worry about it

so youre over at johns?

yep! :)

(nice deflection) ;)

what deflection

;(

mind some company?

John's father isn't home, so everyone feels pretty comfortable dicking around in his living room while John throws up his organs upstairs. John eventually comes out of the bathroom and gets fake-annoyed at you all, but because you've already done this about ten times before as a group, not to mention countless times individually, so he probably doesn't care anymore.

He takes another controller and starts playing Brawl with you only a couple of feet away from the TV. You're playing as Kirby, because you love yourself and you're here to have fun. John is playing as Mario because he's unoriginal and is entirely useless trash, let's move on. Rose is reading a book on the floor, and while you don't comment on it (because it would definitely stop if you did, and it's pretty cute and all so you don't want it to), you think Dave is trying to give her cornrows from his spot on the couch. 

It takes all of an hour for John to start kicking you during games, because he's on a terrible losing streak and has a lot of trouble accepting failure.  
  
"Can we do something else?"

"Don't be a sore loser."

"I'm not being a sore loser! We've just been playing for too long," He gives up completely and throws his controller down, so you entertain yourself by throwing Mario off the side of the stage anyways. "I'm bored."

You hear Dave shift on the couch.

"Well, seeing how and Rose is officially ten times hotter thanks to my expertise," Dave runs an appreciative hand over the various knots on her head, "And my work here is done, I wouldn't mind getting some fresh air."

John is probably trying to sound enticing when he says, "We could go to the _paaaaark_ ," and wiggles his eyebrows at you. "Jaaaaade, _paaaark_."

The park sounds fun, and it really doesn't take you a lot of convincing, so the four of you grab your stuff and head out.

 

* * *

  
  
Rose is swinging dangerously high, and you're 110.3% sure that she's trying to do a 360. John is currently showing off on the monkey bars to absolutely nobody, although Rose sometimes reaches out a foot to kick wood chips at him. Sometimes he loses his hold and falls. You and Dave are riding a UFO and Tonka truck, respectively. You watch John have a coughing fit.

"I think he's coming down with something," you comment, if only to stop Dave from trying to fuck around with your hair. He flushes, putting his hand back down.

"Yeah, we've been having some issues lately."

You snort. "What, are you two sharing a brain now or something?"

He looks startled for a moment, but then he laughs quietly.

"Not together." His hand twitches, and then fingers the pockets on his hoodie. "We got some kinda issues goin' on, though."

Well that was vague! "What kind of issues?"

Dave presses his lips together. "Mm, no."

Gee, _thanks_. "Why?"

"What?"

"Why 'Mm. No?'"

"You wouldn't get it."Bull _shit._ _  
_

You're a little bit annoyed because 1) Dave shouldn't have brought it up if he didn't want to talk about it, and 2) What the hell is that supposed to mean. _Gam's host is a fucking idiot_ , you think, and you lean over to scowl in his face until he turns to cough into his elbow.

"We are..." He starts chewing on his lip. "...tired, and sad, and our heads are fucked up the wazoo..." Dave sighs.  "But don't tell anybody."

"That information is a bit unhelpful and a lot concerning, Dave."

"I dunno. Don't worry about it." He kicks some dirt around for a moment before looking up at you. "You been weird lately?"

"What?"

"Like are you feeling alright." 

"I mean, I guess! Same as ever, really."

"Okay, just..." He watches John walk over start swinging next to Rose. "Maybe that's not all the way true, and I'm not saying to panic, but maybe just..."

You don't see where he's going with this. "Just..."

"Watch yourself, I guess?"

 _What?!_  "Are you threatening me?"

"No, no, I--" Dave huffs. "It's just like... dumb."

"I'm sure it's not--"

"You literally have no clue what I'm talking about," he gives you a derisive look over the top of his shades. "Yeah, it's pretty dumb."

"Dumb?"

"Like... aliens and shit." Holy hell.

"Is this about that asshole you were complaining about earlier?"

"Yeah. It's dumb."

"Stop saying everything's dumb."

"I don't know what else to say, so I'm gonna keep saying it." He kicks your truck. "Everything's dumb."

"You're dumb."

" _Now_ you're getting the hang of it."

"Shut up."

Rose stops swinging as John has another coughing fit.

He snorts. "Yeah, I'm not feeling up to this. See you guys later."

"Wow, you're particularly needy today," Dave calls out, but he looks concerned and is doing a piss-poor job of hiding it. "Can you walk yourself home?"

"Yes, dipshit, I can walk halfway down the street all on my own." He waves and starts walking away, although he almost faceplants after a couple of seconds.

"Are you sure your okay?" Rose asks, furrowing her brows.

He makes a dismissive gesture and rights himself. The three of you watch him walk away.

"See you later, boner!" You call, and he gives a half-assed wave behind him.

 

* * *

 

You leave the playground once some actual children come and their parents glare at you, and make yourselves comfy under the shade of a tree.

You and Dave stare out into space for a while, but Dave takes out his phone and starts playing with it.

" _Hey_ ," Rose whispers to Dave suddenly, and you're pretty sure it's the first time she's spoken today. You feel like you're the only one in this group who isn't having some kind of internal crisis. She pats the space in front her, and Dave does a great job of multitasking by playing Tetris and scooting over. You pluck some dandelions out of the ground, and start twisting them together.

Rose somehow manages to put tiny braids into Dave's hair. "How have you two been lately?" Not her, too.

"Pfft, we've changed drastically since the last time you saw us," Dave wraps an arm around you. "We've married, and are expecting a third."

Gross!

"Oh, my. I'm surprised Jade was able to give birth while commandeering an entire mothership."

"No, Rose, _I_ was the one giving birth. And for the record, they were twins."

"Oh?"

"Yes," Dave says, and then whispers threateningly, "And I think the third one's coming... right... _now_!"

Rose gigglesnorts, and you aid the realism of the situation by taking a water bottle out of your drawstring bag and pouring it all over Dave. He takes his hoodie off and wraps it around the bottle, nodding to himself solemnly, and cradling the water baby close to his chest. It is a beautiful moment.

Rose murmurs adds your dandelion crown to the bundle as a finishing touch.

 

* * *

 

 

**=== > Rose: Get used to it.**

 

You haven't eaten in two days. You chalk it up to general stress and you move on with your life. 

Your mom is passed out in her room, and Jade's visiting, but she's filling out an internship application. You've been painting your nails, at Kanaya's request, so between the three of you the house is pretty quiet this evening. Jade giggles to herself.

"D'you hear what Dave was talking about earlier?" She stops chewing on the end of her pen. "I think you're rubbing off on Dave a little too much."

Kanaya laughs, or something like it, because you chuckle without meaning to. "How so?"

Jade scoffs, and starts scratching furiously at the margins with a ballpoint pen.

"Dave's been mother henning me about my mental health. Got a pen that I can borrow?"

"Somewhere on my desk."

Jade gets up and starts rifling through the top of her desk, which makes you weary, but it's not like you keep anything private out in the open.

"He was talking something about him and John being sad, and how I'm gonna catch their dumb or some shit."

You make a _hmm_ noise to show you're listening.

_She doesn't get it._

_What doesn't she get?_

_John and Dave know about your friends now, don't they?_

_They're not my friends,_ as a fleeting thought, and then, _Oh. I believe so. I apologize for not—_

_You don't have a responsibility to me._

You feel sick.

_I don't._

_Terezi doesn't talk much, does she?_

_What?_

_She doesn't really talk or do much as Jade, right?_

_I'd say it's about even._

You realize that Jade is still talking, and make another emphatic _hmm_ -ing noise, nodding understandingly. Jade scoffs again, and it takes you a second to realize it's directed at you.

"Don't pretend like you're listening if you're not even gonna do it well."

_Well._

"I was listening, Jade. But you're right, it doesn't make any sense. I'm trying to figure out what he's saying myself." If Jade knows your bullshitting her, she doesn't call you out on it.

"I mean, _aliens_? That's just kind of... I dunno! Maybe he thinks he's funny or something! Like some kinda joke?"

"That's certainly a stretch."

"Do you know what he's going on about? Like have you had any..." She makes a vague gesture at her head with your feather pen.

You surprise yourself with how easily you can say, "No, I can't say I have."

Jade starts nodding her head like she's trying to behead herself agreeing with you. "See! It doesn't make any sense! If you _had_ a parasite living in your own damn head, you would _know_!"

You think, _Parasite is too strong a word_ , but say, "Definitely. The whole idea is a bit of a stretch, really." You drum your fingers on your knees. "Well, I can't blame him entirely. Neither he nor John have been feeling too well, lately. Dave is having..."

"'Issues,' he's calling them."

"I think he's been stressed lately, yes. And John isn't feeling too well either."

Jade thumbs the hem of her skirt. "He was throwing up this morning, yeah."

The two of you work on your own thing in silence for a while, until Jade gets up. "It's getting late. I think I'm gonna head home."

"Alright."

You sigh to yourself. You'd certainly like to go to sleep, but you've had trouble lately. You grab an empty mug from your desk and head into your mom's room, where she's knocked out on the bed. You grab the wine bottle fro the nightstand, and pour yourself a cup.

_I thought you wanted to go to bed._

_Well, this certainly doesn't hurt, does it?_

_I suppose not. Be careful, I don't want to wake up to a headache._

Your stomach growls, and you end up eating a PBJ sandwich in the kitchen at ten o'clock at night.

You hear the front door open, and Roxy walks into view. She plops down on one of the stools near the counter, and drops a bunch of shopping bags in front of you.

"You're home late."

"You're home _drunk_ ," she says, and boops you on the nose.

You swat her hand away and eye the stuff she left on the counter.

"Those for me?"

"Oh _god_ , no!"

You can feel yourself making a face as you recognize the logo on one of them.

"Take your sex toys out of the kitchen, Roxy."

She barks out a laugh.

"Alright, alright!" She bundles them up in her arms, and then eyes you for a moment. "I haven't actually seen you around much."

"I've been hanging out with—"

"Yeah, I know. But like—" She smacks her lips and you cringe. "I dunno. When you're home, you don't really come out of your room."

"I keep myself entertained."

I  _keep you entertained._

_Hush._

"Well. Whatever works, I guess!" She ruffles your hair.

"Yeah."

You swallow a gag, and when Roxy leaves, you start dry retching.

Your stomach growls after you're done throwing up your dinner.

 

* * *

 

 

Your phone chimes at 11:30.

omg i'm literally having nightmares about john barfing :((

why

why???

YES, AS IN WHY IS HE PUKING

Iol idk calm your tits

Your tits have no chill, Dave.

haha fuck you guys i accidentally turned caps lock on. 

i've got the chillest, illest tits around

How is our John?

he ran out of puke a while after i visited him earlier and he just kinda dry wretched for a while??? i left after he fell asleep

shit

how do i get out of this chat??? i'm trying to sleep and you guys are blowing up my phone!

shut up john we're talking shit about you

We're talking about your puke.

why?

its just so interesting bro

we cant take our motherfucking minds off it

can't you guys just text each other and leave me out of it?

I don't think I've ever heard of someone purposefully trying to ostracize themselves from their friends before.

i'm serious. i'm sick and i have a headache.

 

well!

i feel kinda insulted

but i guess overall i dont care so thats that

He has his reasons, I suppose.

uh, yeah

is this about the alien thing again?? you kind of sound like a kook when you start going off about that stuff

1) idc and 2) fuck u

Good point.

seriously, dude! it's getting weird

I don't think it's weird. I believe in aliens.

see

But I don't believe in aliens living in your brains, Dave.

thanks for the fakeout rose i really appreciate it

I'M GONNA GO THE MOTHERFUCK TO SLEEP NOW

Mind the caps lock, Dave. You really do sound like a kook.

yeah idk

w/e

bYe

see ya later!!

Goodnight.

were you really serious about believing in that stuff?

although i guess i've always pegged you as the type to, so i guess it makes sense

I suppose I was. 

have you heard about this kind of stuff before??

Not really. This is the first time I'm hearing it from Dave, although you were talking about it earlier.

Apart from the two of you, I really know nothing about this.

so like

what would you do if, like

you actually had aliens living in your brains and all? what would you do?

...

Nothing at all, I don't think. 

 

* * *

 

 

You fall asleep easily, but you dream about drowning in your bathtub, so you wake up with a headache the next day and you feel like you didn't get any sleep at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> exactly 11,000 words!!!! :O daaaaamn


End file.
